


Stripped

by Anonymous



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gang Rape, Humiliation, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 14:31:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10310348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Dorian is forced to strip for a bunch of Templars and suck them off.





	

It was the staff that gave him away, of course. He’d taken pains to disguise it, but that hadn’t fooled the Templars who singled him out of the line of refugees that had been less traveling together and more happened to be traveling to the same place at the same time. He wasn’t terribly surprised when they left him there. 

“Look,” Dorian said with a sigh. “I had an inkling what this might be, I admit, but I needed a weapon. There are _bandits_ in this place! Not to mention the bears. I don’t want to be here unarmed, even if it's only with a blade on a stick.”

“So what brings a scholar like yourself down here, in amongst the bandits and bears with only a pilfered staff to defend yourself with?”

“I have a friend in Redcliffe, if you must know,” Dorian replied. “And it’s not exactly safe elsewhere, you know. At least this way I might be able to have a roof over my head.”

“Redcliffe, eh?” The Templar who was doing the most questioning was tall, blonde and under the circumstances slightly imposing. “That doesn’t help your case, you know.”

“Why not?” Dorian asked. “There isn’t a Circle or anything in Redcliffe, is there?”

The tall Templar snorted. “There are mages, in Redcliffe. They threw the rest of the people- the decent people- out of the city gates nearly a fortnight ago.”

“What?” His shock was genuine, as was his dismay. “Oh no. Oh, _no_.”

_Oh Gereon, what have you done?_

“I don’t think he knew.” Another Templar, younger than the rest, with dark hair and skin. 

“I didn’t know,” Dorian confirmed. 

“Your friend. He’s decent people?” The leader again.

“He’s the best man I know,” Dorian replied. 

The young one spoke up again. “I don’t think he knew, Ser Osric. I don’t think he’s a mage.”

“Your not thinking is going to get us overrun with demons in our sleep, Gerard,” Osric replied, before turning his attention back to Dorian. “Strip,” he ordered. 

“What?”

“You heard me. Strip, and prove you’re not a mage.”

“How would that prove-”

“Strip, or we run you through right here and now.”

Dorian considered trying to fight his way out for what felt like the millionth time since being singled out by this group. But as quickly as the thought came, so too did the reminder: he’d run afoul of one of these Southern Templars before and barely escaped with his life. He couldn’t handle six at once, especially not without his staff. 

With trembling fingers, he reached for the clasp on his cloak.

***

It was bitterly cold in the Hinterlands, and growing colder as the sun began to set. He huddled in upon himself as much for the sake of warmth as dignity. 

“That’s no use,” Osric chidded. “Stretch out your arms so I can check them.”

Somewhere around the time intense scrutiny was being paid to his left elbow, Dorian realized what this was: Osric was checking for scars, to see if he was a blood mage. He sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Maker that his father had never gotten that far along with it, and grit his teeth as Osric’s metal gauntlet skimmed over his skin.

“Well,” Osric declared after an eternity. “You do not appear to be a blood mage.”

“I’m not any type of mage,” Dorian lied. “May I put my clothes back on?”

“Not quite yet,” Osric said.

“Well, what else is there?” Dorian demanded. 

“One last test,” Osric told him. “One last way to determine that you are as harmless as you say you are.”

A set of gauntlets came down on each of his shoulders, and forced him down to his knees. 

“Ser Osric, no!” Gerard cried. 

“This is the best way to do it,” Osric told him, already reaching for his belt. Dorian, realizing what was coming, started to struggle in earnest, but the two Templars behind him held him down. A third unsheathed his sword and held it to Dorian’s neck. A fourth pulled his arms together behind his back, and fastened them with a length of rope. “They can’t help themselves- the slightest bit of pressure and they’ll call for their demons to save them.”

“This isn’t a slight pressure!” Gerard snapped. 

“Don’t!” Dorian shouted. “Don’t- I’ll bite!”

Osric laughed at him. “That would not be wise,” he said.

He’d undone the kilt portion of his uniform, revealing his cock. It was already half hard, a drop of precome just visible at the tip. Dorian’s stomach lurched at the sight. 

“Now,” he said, grasping Dorian by the hair. “Open up, and none of this biting business, do you hear?”

 _I could burn you alive,_ Dorian thought, looking up at him. _I could conjure flames into your very bones before you could react._

He couldn’t though. Not with his arms bound behind his back, and not with five other Templars to contend with as Osric roasted.

He opened his mouth instead.

***

Ser Osric was uncut, and in Dorian’s estimation he did not bathe nearly often enough. He smelled foul and tasted fouler, and Dorian was, among other things, terrified that he might vomit.

He didn’t. He didn’t do much of anything- didn’t have a chance to, despite an early panicked thought that maybe if he applied a few dirty tricks it would all be over soon. Osric kept a painful grip on Dorian’s hair, and used it to drag his mouth up and down his length. It was all he could do to try and breathe around the violation. 

Osric came down his throat, holding Dorian’s head so that his nose was buried in the man’s pubis. He kept him there until he was satisfied, and then finally let him pull off. 

He spluttered, trying to pull clean air into his lungs and expend some of the seed in his throat at the same time. Eventually he hacked a large gob of white-tinged spit up onto the grass, and managed to catch his breath. 

“There,” he rasped. “You’ve had your fun, now let me go!”

“But you’re not finished yet,” Osric told him, nodding to his left. 

The Templar who had held his sword to Dorian’s neck earlier began to unfasten his belt. 

“This isn’t necessary!” Gerard cried. 

“Are you under his thrall?” Osric demanded.

“How can I be?” Gerard asked. “ _He’s not a mage._ ”

Osric sighed. “Searching for mages- especially weak-willed mages, prone to demonic possession- is part of a Templar’s duties,” he lectured. He bent down and retrieved his sword. “If you cannot do your duties, I will release you from them.”

The threat was clear. Gerard fell silent, and the next Templar took up Osric’s grip on his hair. 

_One down,_ Dorian told himself. _Five to go. This will end._

He only hoped it was true.

***

Gerard went last, and from the expression on his face, he wasn’t having a great deal more fun having his cock sucked than Dorian was having sucking it. 

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. A very large part of him want to rage against the unfairness of it: what right did _he_ have to be miserable when he was an active participant in this abominable farce?

But the other Templars had their hands resting upon their swords, and if he couldn’t have put it together from that, the sudden vision he had of Gerard lying in a pool of his own blood in the same pose as the slave his father had sacrificed would have done it.

 _This will happen because you are so weak,_ Fear whispered, the vision refusing to fade no matter how tightly he screwed his eyes shut. _It would be better to give in, let someone stronger take your place._

 _Fuck off,_ Dorian told it. He spared a moment to reinforce his shielding, and then did his level best to finish of Gerard quickly for both their sakes. Between a mutually disagreeable blowjob and demonic possession, this was the lesser of two profound evils.

When he came, Gerard pulled out and turned, so that Dorian caught a few droplets of come on his knee instead of having to swallow it. He appreciated that. 

“It’s done,” Dorian said, hoping they were convinced. “It’s done, now please let me go.”

“Very well,” Osric said. “You’re free to go. Gerard will show you out.”

Gerard untie him, and then turned away to give him an illusion of privacy as he dressed. He repacked the contents of Dorian’s bag, which had been strewn all over the ground, and handed it back to him, along with his staff. 

He honestly hadn’t expected to get that back. He took it gratefully, and followed Gerard away from that place in silence until they’d climbed a hill overlooking a large amount of the surrounding countryside. 

“There’s a farmhouse not too far up ahead,” Gerard told him. “The farmers fled, I think- they won’t mind if you shelter there overnight. From there if you head west, you’ll hit the crossroads. It’s become a sort of unofficial refugee camp, since the coup in Redcliffe. If your friend made it out, he’s there.”

“Thank you,” Dorian said. 

“Least I could do,” Gerard said, with a dry little ‘ha’. 

“You could come with me,” Dorian offered impulsively. 

Gerard looked at him askance. 

“Pardon me for saying so, but you don't appear to be keeping the best of company at the moment.”

“Would you really want to travel with me?”

Honestly, no. “I’m not proposing we because the best of friends,” Dorian told him. “I’m sure there would be more than enough people in a refugee camp for us to never have to look at one another again.”

“No,” Gerard said. “I should stay. Someone needs to try and reign them in.”

“No offense, but you don’t appear to be particularly effective in that undertaking.”

“I’m doing better than you might think,” Gerard said. “Osric would have stopped the whole caravan, gone through and found the prettiest faces attached to rings which might be enchanted, or daggers which might be used in blood magic rituals. It wouldn’t have just been you.”

“Well. I’m sure the others appreciate that.”

“I hope you find your friend,” Gerard said, and then left him on the hill, overlooking fallow fields and derelict buildings. 

“I hope I find him too,” Dorian told the emptiness. Seeing Felix again might be the one thing that would make this journey even remotely worth it.


End file.
